


Baby Blue

by intrepidem



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Drugs, Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Missing Scene, Oral Sex, Past Child Abuse, Prostitution, eps3.7_dont-delete-me.ko, sorry - Freeform, tag: elliot is always unhappy, technically, this is essentially my speculation into the scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 11:06:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13188759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intrepidem/pseuds/intrepidem
Summary: “Such a shame. Maybe you do have that death wish after all.”I stare at the bag full of baby blue pills that he has clutched in his hand, just out of my reach. Right there, secured in that ziplock is my official way out of loneliness, the final step towards a world without 5/9, without ECorp, without Mr. Robot.Without me.“And I doubt this is the thing that's gonna change your mind.”





	Baby Blue

 

 

"Life that unbearable, baby?" 

 

_Yes_.

 

I sort of wish I could say it, just admit to it out loud instead of talking to you about it all the time, friend. I'm sure you get tired of hearing about all of my shit. But don't worry; you don't have to hear about it for much longer.

 

That's what this meet with Hard Andy is all about. 

 

“Cute little boy like you? Mm.”

 

He slithers up to me like the snake I pictured him to be when I first found his information through Mobley’s brother’s firm. His eyes glide up my half naked body and I take the smallest step back.

 

“The pleasure I could give you. . .” I feel his breath on my shoulder and will myself not to shiver. “Such a shame. Maybe you do have that death wish after all.”

 

I stare at the bag full of baby blue pills that he has clutched in his hand, just out of my reach. Right there, secured in that ziplock is my official way out of loneliness, the final step towards a world without 5/9, without ECorp, without Mr. Robot.

 

Without me. 

 

“And I doubt this is the thing that's gonna change your mind.”

 

I feel his hand on my shoulder before I see it, but it makes me look straight at him again, and now he's got a sick smile on his face like when he asked me watched me spin around for him. I feel trapped.

 

Even with the solid cash I could scrounge up from my personal stash, I still knew I was still going to owe him. Hard Andy doesn't take ECoin, and I'm really not one to judge him for that. He seems to be doing pretty well despite it, in fact. I guess it goes to show what real desperation can do, even in times like these. 

 

What are you still doing here? I thought you’d be gone by now. You get what this is, right? I don't want you to have to see this. You should go. Or maybe you're stuck, just like me. Forever the silent observer, forced to watch whatever is in front of you without the liberty to turn away.

 

All I can say to that is . . . I’m sorry. 

 

"You won't be needing that," He says to me as I reach for my shirt. "It'd be a shame if we were to spill something on it, although something tells me you wouldn't let that happen anyway, would you?"

 

My breath catches when he lays a hand on my shoulder again and I hope for my own pride, what little I have left, that he didn't hear it. It's obvious what he's trying to get me to do, so I go to my knees. He goes to unbuckle his belt and I freeze as the reality of the situation finally washes over me, as well as a wave of nausea. After a few moments though it just goes back to that numb feeling that got me here in the first place. 

 

"Tell me, baby, you ever done this before?"

 

I don't humor him, and stare at the ground after I settle down, unresponsive. 

 

“Hey."

 

I feel a finger tip trace my chin, and all of the sudden I'm being forced to look into Hard Andy’s crude, smudged made-up face another time. His blue eyes are red-rimmed and dark with furrowed brows and purple rings. Classic movie villain style, and it would have been almost funny if he wasn't actively taking his dick out of his pants. 

 

“You’re on my dime, you answer me when I talk to you, got it, sweetheart?" He threatens, low and quiet, and I can feel the tension in his finger tips where he's gripping my chin so I won't go anywhere.

 

Unsure, I nod as much as he allows me. "Okay." I say because I don't want to test him, especially not in this position.

 

It seems like I did right because his face softens as much as possible, forgiving but never losing that sharp predatory quality about it. His mouth cracks open on another smile, and he licks his rouged lips.

 

"So, have you done this before?” He asks again, measured, as he strokes my cheek with a calloused thumb and I risk breaking eye contact, instead focusing fuzzily on the small light fixture sitting on the night stand. 

 

“No.” I answer, and it's only a half-lie. There have been a few foggy nights where Mr. Robot has taken the reins that left me with a bad taste in my mouth, but I don't think that counts, not where it matters.

 

“Hard to believe, with a sweet mouth like this."

 

He traces the closed seam of my lips with the thumb of his left hand, and I try to look anywhere but at what he's holding in his right hand but it's directly in front of my face and I’m doomed to it eventually. 

 

"To think, so many opportunities wasted."

 

I knew I couldn't avoid it for too long because now he's pressing his fingers into my jaw so hard it aches and I finally relent and open for him. He takes advantage of the moment, and I would be taken off-guard if I hadn't been expecting the worst. All I can do is brace for it and be compliant.

 

It’s slow at first, almost painfully slow, like he’s dragging it out and watching me as I try to adjust around him, mind going a million places a minute and none of them nice. Eventually, he lets go of himself and his hands go to either side of my head, cradling it with a strange gentleness that I don’t understand.

 

"If I had more time with you, I mean, fuck," he groans and his hips are pushing forward as he starts his own rhythm. I'm at least grateful he took that responsibility away from me. His hands find my hair and pull, one going to the back of my head to keep it still. "I could blow your mind, you'd be crawling back for more."

 

I'm trying to breathe through my nose and stay calm as he nears my gag reflex. It may be a lost cause, but I really don't want to give him another part of me to exploit. His thrusts become faster and I try to relax and let it happen, but it's difficult every time I let myself actually think about what I'm doing. In a moment of desperation, I close my eyes and picture my final destination in all of this. 

 

I imagine passing the ferris wheel in Coney Island and making my way down to the shore. I imagine sitting down in the sand and maybe even taking off my shoes, feeling the breeze and tasting the salty air.

 

_Fuck._ I almost ended up gagging there, it barely reaching the back of my throat, too much, too fast.

 

I remember the trips me and Dad would take to the beach, with Darlene in tow. She would always beg me to help her build a fort around her sandcastles and decorate them with shells and little pieces of glass from broken beer bottles and rocks. 

 

_Oh, god._ I gag for real this time, and I accidentally graze Hard Andy with my teeth. He pulls out with a hiss, and I'm almost prepared for it when his hand rears back and whips my head to the side with a deafening smack. I blink, dizzy, and almost fall but catch myself on my hand. The blow sounds off in my head with a loud ringing sound resonating in my ears, and I suddenly picture my mom:

_"Remember that the next time you think about pouring sand out on my carpet."_

But instead of that it's:

 

"Watch your fucking teeth or you'll be sorry." And my head gets forced to look up at him again. "Got it?"

 

I blink some more, disoriented. I don't have much time to respond like he said he wanted me to before he's forcing himself back in and going at it fast. I breathe hard through my nose and try to get my bearings, try to relax but all I can really focus on is trying not to graze him. I gag again, and choke a little, but Hard Andy doesn't seem to mind as long as I'm not biting off his dick. 

 

I wonder how much longer this is going to be, if he'll draw it out or if he thinks I'm not worth the time. I hope the latter. 

 

I gag some more, terrible, ugly sounds getting trapped between us but it seems to be getting him off and making this go a little faster. Small miracles?

 

"Yeah, choke on my fucking cock." He growls, adjusting his stance so he can go deeper and pushing the back of my head forward. I have to swallow reflexively around him, and I try not to panic when he stays there for a while, lodged in my throat, cutting off my air. Tears build up in my eyes and I will them to go away. " Do you like this, baby? Do you like how I'm using you like a fucking toy? Oh, _fuck_. I bet you do, deep down. I bet you fucking _love it_. Ah, shit."

 

He pulls out completely and I'm surprised by this but no less grateful. I gasp for air, and cough a little but the sudden grip on my hair doesn't allow for much freedom of mobility. That's when I realize what he's doing. He jacks himself fast, an inch from my nose, and stares down at me like I'm a piece of meat.

 

"Tell me you want it." He grinds out between his teeth. "Fucking say it."

 

I swallow unsurely, stuttering it out with a hoarse, raw voice. "I-I want it." Heat rushes to my face and I avert my eyes. Of course I would pick now to be bashful about this. 

 

"Look at me," A sharp tug on my hair and I'm back to looking into his dark and hungry eyes, and his lips split on another equally dark and hungry smile. "And ask nicely."

 

_Fucking asshole._  

 

I hesitate a little before, "Please. I want it, _please,_ give it to me." I say, anger starting to boil up just below the surface. It's strong and I didn't notice it before but now it's in full swing. 

 

I don't think he notices because he's finishing above me. It all gets worse when I feel it land across my face, the cold resentment simmering with the burning-hot humiliation of it all. I close my eyes, willing the tears that I've kept at bay this whole time to stop stinging at them, swallowing around them in my throat.

 

_Fucking pathetic._

 

I wanna go back to the numbness I felt in the beginning of this, and find that it isn't a unreasonable request when after a few moments of me sitting on my knees, trying to get my breathing under control, he offers me a rag and things start to go grey again. I don’t thank him, and clean up as I hurriedly get my clothes back on.

 

 It's when he throws me the morphine that I'm perfectly seated back in my apathy. I'm zipping my hoodie up when it lands next to my thigh. I stare blankly at it for a while before getting the mind to grab and stuff it in my pocket. 

 

And then I'm heading straight out the way I came, but Hard Andy's voice stops me. I turn back around to face him.

 

He's staring at me just like before, except this time there's a hint of something else on his face. Humanity, maybe?

 

"If you make it past this, sweetheart, give me a call. You know where to reach me." And he winks and I wish I could vomit on him but the moment has passed. It doesn't matter any more. I got what I needed from him and I never have to see him again. 

 

I don't bother with a good bye and slam the door behind me.

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this depressing garbage. Kudos and feedback are always greatly appreciated!
> 
>  
> 
> Find me on tumblr [here.](https://intrepidem.tumblr.com/)


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